


give me an inch (ill take a mile)

by CrystallizedInsomniac



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: DFAB reader, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, breeding kink is also present, happy birthday mammon, the dirty talk here is... im so sorry that's all i have to say about it, there's some terato in here but mammon remains mainly human-shaped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26368747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedInsomniac/pseuds/CrystallizedInsomniac
Summary: "A little birdie told me that you have another form." You expect Mammon to deny it, or even change the conversation topic. Surprisingly enough, he just stops and doesn't say anything, so you push a little more. "Would you show me?"
Relationships: Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 34
Kudos: 475





	give me an inch (ill take a mile)

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry im a horny piece of shit and can't get anything normal done for mammon. i'm sure i have some nice, regular fluff for him _somewhere_ but that's probably never gonna see the light of day. **if your preference is a sub mammon, this is not the fic for you.** i was going to go full terato on this one but i lost interest once i hit the 5k word mark and the only reason i'm even posting this and not letting it rot in my wips folder is because i wanted to put _something_ out for his birthday. 
> 
> here's a small warning: in canon luke _does_ have a crush on the mc, if you're uncomfortable with this information coming up/shown between the mc and luke, then this is not your fic. i'm not saying that mc will even entertain luke's comments/actions, but it does show up.
> 
> here's another warning: mammon calls the reader a bitch like two times. just a heads up. 
> 
> long author's note is long.

That voice of reason that people usually have in their head? The one that tells you, _hey! maybe you shouldn't touch the stove-top since it's hot,_ the one that says _cheating is bad_ or _never walk alone at night?_

You've come to terms that you've never possessed one, or if you ever did—well, it's long gone now. Probably got tired of screaming and yelling only for you to happily ignore it and continue on your merry way.

Lucifer _definitely_ seems concerned, or rather, vaguely annoyed at what he deems _human stupidity_ and really—that's just unfair, saying it's a human-type of stupidity. His own brothers display the same lack of self-awareness or even self-preservation that you've had your whole life.

The only difference is that to them, what could be a lethal blow to you was but a mere scratch for them. Not that you're here to think about the details. 

When in Rome, do as the Romans do and all that.

Which is why when Luke is going off in another one of his rants you're not even paying him full-attention. The day is unbearably hot and the drink you have on hand is doing nothing to help your current predicament: which is that you're hot and bothered, and _sure_ you could also blame the on-going text conversation you're having with Mammon while Luke is loudly complaining about—you squint, eyes flickering to the side and away from the text convo, _ah, demons, of course_ —but you know.

Decency dictates that you can't just tell the people you're keeping company that one of the reasons you're feeling hot all over isn't because of the weather, but because you're sexting someone while an eight year-old is trying very hard to keep your attention on him.

Simeon had been bearing the load of it before, as he usually did, with a patient smile and _genuine_ interest in the younger angel's rants.

You don't know how he does it, you certainly tried once upon a time, back when you had been completely knew to everything that isn't human-related and the only people you could easily rely on where, well, the angels themselves. Nowadays your patience tends to run a little shorter, so when Solomon had popped up out of nowhere after flaking on the three of you earlier today at lunch and took Simeon with him to god knows where, you were left with Luke.

See, the conversation had been _fine._ Luke isn't particularly bothered by your split attention, he too is currently keeping preoccupied as he vents out his frustrations. Having picked up knitting not too long ago, he's started to keep spools of chunky thread and needles with him in a cute side pouch that matches his whole look.

Very cute, very innocent, makes it almost shocking to hear the hatred and disdain on his voice when he grumbles about having been picked on, _again_ , this week.

You let out a small noise of what you hope is comfort. Your phone vibrates, and you pay no attention to the picture Mammon just sent you, opting to turning it off for the meantime as to spare Luke an accidental glimpse of things no kid, even if he's older than you, should ever have to see. 

Luke looks up at you, head tilts to the side curiously. His baby-blue eyes flicker from your flushed face to your phone when it vibrates, "do you feel okay? you're all sweaty. It's um, gross."

You let out a huff of laughter, vaguely offended. "If you couldn't tell, it's hot as h-, ah. It's hot. Not everyone is blessed with supernatural abilities that let's them ignore small things like sudden rises in temperatures."

Luke frowns, and the... whatever it is he's making right now, it falls to his lap. "I could help you, you know?"

Yeah, you know he can. The offer is _so_ tempting but your phone is going off again, and you can't help but remember what happened last time Luke proclaimed himself as your guardian angel and kissed your cheek.

At the time, the action had been adorable and heartwarming at best, and he seemed so serious about the whole thing. You hadn't realized what the repercussions of the whole thing had been at the time, at least not until later that day when Asmodeus had tried to smother you in a hug and had gotten burned.

He hadn't meant any harm, and after having Lucifer explain to you what the benefits of blessings were—basically becoming a very watered-down version of angels, the lower ranking of choirs, things like pain and bad luck were not able to harm you in any way.

Human annoyances became nonexistent for as long as the blessing were in action.

Needless to say, Luke is no longer allowed to bless you without your consent. 

Or the brother's knowledge.

Still, you give him a soft smile. "I know, but it's fine. I appreciate it though, but I don't think Mammon would—"

Luke rolls his eyes, "—why do you care so much about what _he_ wants?"

You can't exactly tell him it's because said demon is currently texting you saying how much he wants to fuck you right now—having woken up today on his only free day from classes for some reason you're not too keen on finding out about, with Mammon you've come to learn that anything that seems sketchy you're better off not knowing at all in order to not get roped in, anyways, Mammon is horny as hell, shameless too, if the pictures he's sending you are anything to go by.

So you settle for safest answer. 

"Because he cares about what I want." and _jesus_ , talk about soft. You fidget with the edge of your uniform jacket, suddenly unable to look at Luke, so you look at the phone in your lap, back at your reflection on the darkened screen.

You miss the look of hurt that flashes across his face, and then that of envy. It finally settles into something more subtle, just a hint of furrowed eyebrows and lips thinned out into a displeased line.

The same look he has on his face when talking about something distasteful, sinful.

"Simeon and I care about you too," he sighs, looking very much like a kicked puppy. Not for the first time, the thought that he _really_ looks like a puppy crosses your mind.

"I know," you lean forward and pat his head. His face flushes and he bats your hand away, softly, but then he thinks better of it and before you're able to take your hand back, he grasps it with his own. His fingers trace the lines on your palm, soft. The flush on his face grows darker.

" _I_ care about you."

You fight down the uncomfortable feeling on your chest, gently pull your hand back. He lets you. "I know."

A small silence permeates the air, and Luke's bright eyes peer up at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again when he notices your D.D.D light up, another text message from Mammon, and then he's back to puffing out his cheeks and looking away, possibly annoyed.

You're not sure what Mammon sent, but you're certain that his attitude is due to your lockscreen—a picture of you and Mammon wearing bunny ears from that one week where Lord Diavolo decided that opening up a bunny-themed cafe was an excellent idea to motivate the students.

You and Satan are completely in agreement that it was just a poor excuse from the prince to see Lucifer's ass with a bunny tail.

"I would still feel better if you'd let me bless you," Luke sighs and picks up his knitting needles and the bundle of threads that he's been working on and continues with his process. "The demons are starting to be... rowdy lately."

As if on cue, Mammon texts you again. 

You let out a small huff of laughter, eyes moving from Luke's form off to the side, trying to spot a head of white and white clothes. You're not sure where Solomon took Simeon, but you hoped they came back soon—you've been making it a point to not spend a lot of time near Luke, if to make it easier on the kid.

"Tell me about it." You say. Your phone goes off.

Luke squints. "Has he been bothering you lately?"

"Not any more than usual." You shrug.

"No but like... coming on to you."

Your eyes widen briefly, and you sneak a glance his way. He doesn't mean... no way.

Luke takes your silence for what it is not: a confirmation of his question, before he clicks his tongue. "You know they get heats, right?"

...and _holy shit._

"Um." what are you even supposed to say to something like this? 

"Demons are so horrible," his lips pull further down, and the needles in hand and his actions become rougher. He's frustrated, more so than usual, for some reason that you can't quite wrap your head around—do _not_ want to think about. "They're liars and sinful, and they're constantly deceiving you."

Your own lips pull into a grimace, "I know Mammon lies—"

"—always—"

"—and he's not exactly reliable like ninety-five percent of the time—"

"—only ninety-five?—"

"—but he's trying his best to change and you can't just ignore that, Luke."

That manages to shut him up, and he looks away. He knows you're right, he just doesn't want to accept it easily. Simeon had said that it's because he just recently came into creation, that all he truly knows is what's been already in his mind since the moment he took his first breath, it's the same reason as to why Luke is here with Simeon on the exchange program as opposed to any other angel.

Still, that doesn't mean you have to like it.

Luke pouts, like he can't really understand how you're not seeing what he sees. 

"Has he even shown you?" Luke says after a small pause.

You frown. "Shown me what?"

"His demon form." Luke's face sours, possibly imagining Mammon's demon form. Which is weird on itself because _sure_ , there's a lot going on with his form—the leather, the amount of skin being revealed, the delicious looking markings that contrast beautifully against his skin _especially_ when he's covered in blood and _fuck—_ but Simeon is walking around with bits of tantalizing skin out for the world to look.

You don't think Mammon's form is too scandalous, or too bad for Luke's liking. 

Still, you have a small feeling that he means something else. So you carefully question it, and your phone pings three more times. "Does he... does he have another form that I'm not aware of?"

Luke's head snaps up towards you, and there's something like actual _fear_ in his face when he regards you. "Oh no."

_Oh no?!_

"Buddy, you're scaring me." You lick your lips.

"It's—" Luke starts, but then Solomon and Simeon call out to the two of you from a distance and you both look their way. 

Finally, your phone starts ringing and you look at it. Picking it up. It's Mammon calling.

"—nothing." Luke breathes out, and before you're able to do anything about the incoming call or Luke's newest revelation, Solomon plops down right behind you and peers at your screen.

Simeon settles right next to Luke, commenting on the scarf he's been making—and _oh_ , that's what it is.

The look Solomon shoots you when he sees whose calling is equal parts annoying and charming. "Your keeper is calling you."

You roll your eyes, the call falls through. "Oh shut up."

Mammon calls again, hangs up. Calls again, and then hangs up.

Then you feel his pact mark on your skin _burning_ , a tugging inside of you that you can't quite explain save for the word _magic_ and you grimace. Maybe you shouldn't have kept ignoring him. 

"I have to go." You stand up, brushing off any stray grass that might've clung to your uniform's pants, even though the three of you had been sitting atop a blanket Simeon had materialized for your impromptu picnic. "I'll see you guys on Monday."

Mammon calls again, and this time you do pick up once you're a good distance away.

"Calm your horny tits, I'm going."

+

You give what Luke told you some thought.

See, you're not completely oblivious to some of the key differences between humans, angels and demons. You know demons go through some periods of heats, like animals do, and in turn you also know that this is something that _only_ happens to them—makes them go dumb, in that whole 'if I don't stick my dick somewhere wet and warm in the next five minutes I'll decimate an entire country' type of dumb.

It doesn't last long, _hell_ what's with the way Asmodeus had gone on and on about the whole thing when Leviathan had locked himself in his room that one time...

Well, you thought it was a 'die or fuck' type of situation. It really isn't any different, or so you were told. The brothers just gave you warnings to stay away when they were dealing with their business.

At the time you had simply brushed it off as them not being comfortable enough around you—despite having already been in multiple sexual scenarios with them—and you could respect that. If they didn't want you around to look at them that way, fine. 

It's not like you were here in the program to help demons satisfy their sexual urges.

But Luke _had_ mentioned something about their actual forms, and for the first time in what seems like forever, you feel the need to question it.

What if there was more to it? More to the whole heats thing? Your mind wanders for a little bit. 

"Oi," Mammon grumbles from his spot on your neck. Sharp teeth—sharper than usual—nipping at the expanse of skin you've allowed him to uncover from your school uniform. He runs his tongue on the side of your neck, up, up and up until he reaches your earlobe, giving it a playful snip. His hands on your waist squeeze, and he pulls back. "Don't space out on me."

You hum, leaning back on the couch. With your fingers in between white tufts of hair, you pull Mammon slightly back from you by the head, his back arching and a small whine leaving his lips.

He makes such a pretty picture, all flushed and panting, a thin layer of sweat on his face that remains despite the blessed coolness of his bedroom. 

He's in his demon form, and you give an appreciative little hum when you trail your eyes from his blue eyes—lids lowered, blue eyes shining unnaturally bright—down to his mouth, lips swollen from your previous kissing. When he sees you looking, he sends you a grin full of sharp teeth and you feel a small shudder go down your spine, he looks absolutely _dangerous_ and it makes you feel hot all inside.

Looking further down gives you a _very_ nice view of his chest, nipples hardened and begging to be tugged and pulled. Further down you can see the very visible tent on his leather pants, it looks uncomfortable, and if you weren't too busy keeping your arms around his shoulders you'd definitely grind your palm against it. Let him seek his pleasure that way—he's done it once for you before, after-all, you wonder if he'd let you do it again.

"I would never dream of it," You play with the hair at the base of his nape and Mammon grinds himself forward, sitting on your lap the only way he can get any satisfaction is by trying to grind against your stomach. 

"Damn right." Mammon growls, and despite the fact that he paints himself a very sweet picture sitting in your lap and letting you pull him around by the hair, you're under no illusion that you're in charge. Mammon's been... _rougher_ lately, like he can barely keep it together around you. It's flattering, is what it is, and you're half-tempted to ask him if he wants you around to help him out during one of his heats but you haven't really gotten around to it yet.

The hands on your waist squeeze again, and then Mammon surges forward and captures your lips against his. He prods at your lips with his tongue and you make a small noise at the back of your throat when you let him in, and suddenly all you can feel his tongue invading your mouth.

When he pulls back, what seems like an eternity later, he's panting heavily and so are you, and despite that he goes back in again, his sharp teeth nipping at your lips.

You wince when he bites hard enough to draw blood, the taste of it metallic and a bit unpleasant when some of it gets in your mouth, and when you worm your arms way down in between your chests to pull him away slightly, Mammon growls and pushes harder against you. His tongue laps at the wound on your lips, a silent apology.

When he pulls back again, he does it with a breathy " _fuck_ ," that should not have any right to sound that hot.

You don't realize you've closed your eyes until Mammon grumbles about... something. Then you feel his hands pawing at your uniform shirt, he's desperately trying to get it off of you, and there's something heated and wild about his eyes as he looks at the clothes like they're personally offending him.

"Off, off, _off_ , get them—" He grunts, ends up getting frustrated by the whole thing in the end, movements clumsy and desperate, and proceeds to pull the shirt apart. The gasp that leaves your mouth is involuntary.

Inconsiderate asshole.

"Lucifer is going to throw a fit over you ruining my uniform." You say, not a lot of heat or bite into it. 

Mammon scoffs, and you notice how his attention is set on your chest. His hands are tugging away the remaining bit of fabric that clings to your arms, and when he can't get that out of the way he just rips away whatever else is left. The cold air in his room makes your skin breakout in goosebumps, and then your whole body runs hot when Mammons hands cup your breasts, uncaring of the bra in his way.

He gives you a small smirk, squeezes once. "Good thing I ain't care 'bout what that asshole has to say."

Before you're able to say anything else, his hands make their way under your bra and he squeezes at your tits again, hands pulling back only to be stopped by your bra. You arch your back, chest jutting outwards and a small sigh escaping your lips. Mammon's fingers pinch at your nipples, and you moan.

He groans out, appreciative. "Got a nice pair of tits, ya know?"

You huff, very aware of the flush on your face making it's way down to your chest. 

"Aren't I a lucky bastard?" Mammon shoots you a handsome grin, just a bit cruel, before he rolls your nipples in between his fingers, pulling and pinching hard, and then harder when he doesn't receive the reaction he was looking for. 

You let out a small squeak, so unlike anything else you've let out before and Mammon's grin seems to widen.

"I could just eat ya up," he says and leans down to place a kiss on the corner of your lip, and then licking at your mouth. It should feel gross, but all it does is send another wave of heat right into your core. You let out a small whine, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back against the couch cushions. You try to close your legs, get some friction going. You can feel how wet you are, and Mammon undoubtedly knows it too.

"I hear a lot of—nngh—a lot of... lot of talking." You pant out in between each tug, the pain beginning to merge into pleasure. "Not enough action."

"Ya always complaining." he grumbles.

You hum, and then you remember something. "A little birdie told me that you have another form." You expect Mammon to deny it, or even change the conversation topic. Surprisingly enough, he just _stops_ and doesn't say anything, so you push a little more. "Would you show me?"

"...why are you so nosy? damn human."

"What can I say?" You grin, "I just _love_ knowing things."

"Who told you that shit?" He asks, he doesn't sound angry. So you figure that there's nothing wrong in letting him know. When he hears Luke's name, you hear him click his tongue. "Damn brat."

"So it is true?"

"I don't know what he told ya, but um. Yeah." He finally admits, and your interest is all the more piqued, especially when he continues; "Shit's annoying during my heats, that's why I never ask you ta' help out during those days."

"So?" you drag out the word, and Mammon let's out a huff of breath. 

"I'll consider it." He says.

"How kind of you," you huff out. 

Mammon barks out a laugh, loud and somehow in a lower pitch than usual. You open up your eyes with some struggle, only to find that one of his hands has left your chest and he's holding it out in front of him. It takes you a second to realize what's wrong with the image in front of you—

Because Mammon—too busy staring at his own hand and groping your other tit mercilessly—doesn't notice you staring. Staring at his hand, the one that looks nothing like the one currently feeling you up—larger than yours, but that's usual, still very _human_ looking—which has grown in size enough that it might've looked funny if it weren't for his fingers beginning to resemble claws, brown skip giving way to pitch black at the tip. White nails impossibly long and sharp-looking, contrasting against the darker color. 

He brings a single finger down, and you watch horrified as the material of your bra cuts away like water. He barely put any pressure.

Before you can say anything—as the whole ordeal probably took less than a second—your chest is revealed out to him and Mammon licks his lips. When his hand goes down again to grab at your chest, it's back to normal.

" _Fuck_ , you look so nice." He sighs and then leans downward to place a single kiss, oddly gentle, in between your breasts. Against your skin he murmurs, "makes it hard to resist not hurting you a little."

You shiver, pull him closer with one arm. "We could use the knife."

Mammon's whole body shivers, and it's then you realize just how _hot_ he feels all over. He's like a furnace burning, and while it's not particularly bothersome, it is distinct enough that your mind brings it up.

"You'd like that huh?" You can feel the grin on your skin, "mark ya all up, let everyone know who you belong to?"

"Y-yeah, we'd get matching scars then." Not that his are visible anymore—much to your disappointment, but it is a nice thought. 

You try to rub your legs together, but then you feel Mammon's tail wrap around your leg, squeezing in warning.

"Don't." He says, pulling back from your chest. His eyes are hazy with lust, but the intensity is there and _burning_. "I'm the one takin' care of you. You're gonna cum on my tongue alone."

Whatever retort you were going to make gets swallowed up by another moan from your mouth, Mammon pinches your nipples again, leans to lick a wet stripe in between your breasts before getting off of your lap. You take a heavy breath, trying to calm your racing heart, your panting chest. Watch as he stands in front of you, hands in his hips as he observes you. 

Looming above you, even with his hard-on proving quite distracting, Mammon looks the part of a predator looking down at his prey. There's a self-satisfied look on his face that borders on possessive. His blue eyes go over your topless form, clearly admiring the mess he's made out of you. Observing his work.

His tail squeezes again against your leg, before it retracts. You see his eyes trail down from your face down your body—lingering on your chest, your perky nipples—before going down in between your legs.

"Take off your pants," he says, beginning to undo his own. He struggles a little, cursing the sweat making his leather pants stick to his skin. Then, he stops and instead undoes the fly and the button, let's his cock out, weeping precum. 

You comply, undoing the zipper and shimming them down your legs and letting them drop to the floor. "What? Too much of a bother to cut them like you did my bra?"

Mammon grunts. "Gonna give me shit for that?"

You chuckle, extending out a hand to run through white hair when Mammon—cock hard and leaking curving against his stomach—and goes down on his knees. He makes himself a space between your legs, hot breathing on the side of your thigh as he nips at it playfully with his sharp canines.

"Depends on how well you keep up to your words." You say.

He doesn't say anything else. Just breathes out a silent _fuck_ that's both parts excitement and lust. He licks his lips upon seeing your underwear, the damp patch on it. When he leans forward, pressing his face against it, you let out a small moan. You feel yourself grind against his face, his nose bumping into your clit.

Mammon groans out, inhales deeply and presses his face closer. " _Fuck_ , that's what I'm talking about. Smell so good."

"Mammo—" You cut yourself off when you feel his tongue, impossibly hot and _wet_ , press against your panties. He does this another time, then you feel one his fingers go under the material pulling it aside.

"You're soaking wet," he laughs, "this all for me?"

You let out a sound, bite it back before it can turn into a full on whine. He's not even being particularly intense with the dirty talk—but it _is_ a lot more than what you'd usually get. 

"Hey." Mammon snaps his fingers, bringing you out of your thoughts. He lets the thin material go, soaked already as it is, it only partially covers your pussy up. "Answer me."

Impossibly, you feel your face run hotter. Somewhere, and you don't know _where_ , he had flipped the control on you. Leaves you reeling from the whiplash. 

"Uh."

Mammon _tsks_ , presses against your covered slit with the back of his finger. You let out a sigh.

"'s fine, your body's honest enough for me." Mammon laughs softly, voice going softer. "My own little treasure." 

You scoff internally, and then because you always did love to fuck with him, go on to say; "pot calling the kettle bla- _ah_ -ck?"

Mammon's lip quirk upwards on one side. Presses deeper, and then follows after you when you try to pull away, only to grind back on his lone finger. 

Mammon leans on your thigh, his finger running up and down between your covered labia, pressing into you when your hips begin to seek the friction. He's deliberately avoiding your clit, and it's beginning to annoy you. You have half-a-mind to complain, to let him know that he can _get on with it_. But when you open your eyes you find his attention focused solely on his actions. 

Like he can be down there for eternity just—teasing you. 

"Mammon," you whine out, opening up your legs further and trying to scoot down on the couch. A silent plea for him to get the fuck on with either finger-fucking you or eating you out. " _Please."_

The bastard blinks, and then hums. Like he doesn't understand what you're so worked up about. Completely different to the energy he had not too long ago. You're trying so hard to not feel exasperated but he's running hot and cold today, and you're _soaking_ and aching for something inside of you.

"What?" He asks, one hand on your thigh while the other runs up towards the band of your underwear. He hooks a single finger under the material before he begins pulling down, teasingly slow. "Want me to fill up that pretty pussy of yours?" 

You nod, biting your lip. Raising your hips to allow him to remove the garment. 

"Yeah?" he breathes out. He has to move back a little in order to fully remove the undergarment, and when he does he goes back to his original position in between your legs. He has your slick-covered panties in one hand, held between his index finger and thumb. Rubbing the material, held up high enough that you can see him doing it—can see him rubbing your arousal between his fingers and the fabric, see how _wet_ you are. "Look at the mess you made, doll. You won't need these, right?" He asks like he's going to give you time to answer, before he stuffs the panties in the pockets of his leather jeans. 

This isn't the first time he's gone down on you, but something about the way he's looking at your leaking cunt has you whining, an arm coming up to rest against your face and covering your eyes, while the other finds it's home on Mammon's head. Gripping his hair, urging him forward.

Mammon whistles, impressed. You can hear the shit-eating smirk on his face when he says; "You said you were here to help me out with my heat, but I'm starting to believe you just wanted this cute little pussy of yours to be stuffed full, hm?" Like he wasn't the one sexting you all day, "It's okay to be selfish, I can't blame ya—having _The_ Great Mammon fucking you is a privilege on its own."

He's such a mouthy piece of shit—you hate how easy he can turn from a pliant mess to a domineering one, hate how it makes you _feel_. You keep telling yourself this, but there's something like satisfaction thrumming throughout your veins.

Mammon finds you attractive. Something as simple as that, even with your not-so-low self-esteem, it can have anyone over the clouds with joy. 

You also know what he's waiting for.

"Yeah," you breathe out, lips tugging into a soft smile, embarrassed. "I want _you,_ Mammoney."

You think you hear him growl out something like _fuck yeah you do_ but you're not sure, your brain short-circuits the moment he presses two fingers against your lower lips, spreading them in a V motion to expose you fully to him. There's only a one-second beat of waiting before you feel his tongue, hot, wet, _firm,_ lick a stripe from your slit all the way to your clit.

You let out a loud moan, fingers grasping his hair, pulling him forward. Mammon growls again, and before you know it he's sucking on your clit with such an intensity that you feel tears beginning to pool at the corner of your eyes. Pussy clenching around nothing.

"Oh _fuck—"_

Mammon releases your clit with a loud smack, and then you feel the hand on your thigh tighten,. His breath hot against your cunt, Mammon doesn't waste any time before he uses his free hand to start rubbing your clit in circular motions. Tongue moving down to lap at your juices, diving in between folds and tongue-fucking you.

For all of Mammon's faults, he's _never_ been bad in bed—always attentive to your needs, your pleasure. Even right now, half-changed due to his oncoming heat, he's eating you out like it's the last thing he has to do before the world ceases to exist. He sucks and licks like a man starved of food, and it makes your body sing, your hips moving to grind your pussy against his face—and he _let's you._

When his mouth leaves your cunt, he wastes no time in moving his hand down from your clit to your opening. He shoves two fingers in, you wince at the stretch but Mammon licks around his fingers, curling nicely inside you as he pumps them in and out, opening them to stretch you out—a silent apology. The momentary pain switches to pleasure once again, and you let yourself be loud. 

Knowing how much likes it.

"That's it," he coos, sounding breathless. "C'mon, fuck yourself on my fingers— _yeah_ , you gonna come?"

You find yourself nodding, moving your head from side to side on the back of the couch as Mammon's fingers continue to stretch you out. It doesn't take you too long to come after that,body going taut as you feel your walls clench around his fingers, sucking him in deep.

"Attahuman," he sounds absolutely pleased. Still driving his fingers in and out of you, even when your hips try to pull back, too oversensitive. He ignores that, ignores your whining, your grip on his hair.

You feel a third finger push its way inside alongside the others, and you whimper.

"Ma-Mammon, it's too m-much—" You cut yourself off when he presses against your g-spot, whole body shivering. 

Mammon shushes you, keeps on pressing all three fingers in, in, _in_ until the palm of his hand grinds against your oversensitive clit. You feel him stretching his fingers, making space for _him._ The burn isn't as bad as it would be, and having orgasmed definitely helps you ignore the slightly twinge of discomfort. When Mammon pulls back, it's almost like your pussy doesn't want to let go—even with how wet you are, slick running down your body in between your legs and definitely wetting his couch.

The slide back in is easier.

"I know, but you can give me another, hm?" His voice is so deep, makes you want to give in to his wishes, especially with how wonderful his palm feels against your puffy clit. You grind back into his palm. "I need ya wet and stretched out, sweetheart. You gonna help me out, yeah?"

He keeps going on like this for a couple more minutes—endless praises about how beautiful you look taking him in, how perfect your body is, how perfect your greedy cunt is, making room for his fat cock to fill you up and fuck you stupid, _yeah? that's what you want, right?_

Your second orgasm of the night sneaks up on you, and instead of having Mammon work you through it. He pulls his fingers out, leaving you clenching around nothing. You try to move your arm out of your face, open your eyes to see him, but before you can, Mammon manhandles you—flipping you over so you're bent over the couch.

He wastes no time in crowding himself behind you, tail curling around your left leg, squeezing. You open your eyes, try to look over your shoulder only to feel _large_ hands push down your neck. Your heart skips a beat when you feel rather than see, the long, sharp claws poised over the back of your neck.

There's a moment of silence, only interrupted by Mammon's heavy, _loud_ breathing behind you.

"Holy shit," you breathe out. Because something's shifted in the air—feels heavier—and Mammon behind you, you have a vague feeling that he's not—

He's not—

"Fuck, you're so hot." Even his voice sounds deeper, more of a growl than actual speech. Mammon moves slowly, mindful of the claws—and _what the fuck what the fuck?!—_ before you feel both of them settling on your hips. A shiver of fear and anticipation runs through your whole body.

His hands are so big, so _warm_. They easily encircle your whole waist. The claws poking at your soft flesh are just resting there, and you are under no illusion that those could easily puncture.

It makes you run hot all over.

You have a fleeting thought then. Maybe he'd prefer it if you were lower in the couch, let you raise your hips up more, ass in the air, chest and face down between the cushions, instead of having your upper-half supported by the couch.

The thought if cut short when you feel his dick slap against your cunt, your ass. Heavy and wet and hot, and definitely _not_ the size you're used to.

Mammon's growling, rutting against you, with so much force behind each thrust that you're pushed forward every-time he pushes back closer to you. It starts off slow, but then he begins to pick up the speed, body curling over your back, the head of his dick catching against your slit, only to slip up. Not quite making it in.

You're too focused on trying to figure out what it is you're feeling pressed against your sweaty back _—definitely not_ his skin, something rougher in texture, reminding you of leather _—_ that you don't notice Mammon's been cursing under his breath, under every single one of his growls, not loud, but deep and constant enough that they rumble throughout his chest, vibrating against your back wonderfully.

"You're fucking dripping, yeah _—want my cum in you so bad,_ I'm gonna fuck ya until you're full of me." His words are almost slurred, the tips of his claws press uncomfortably against your stomach. "Make you mine, mine, _mine._ Ain't no one gonna get to fill you up like I do, only I can breed you like the fucking cumslut you are _—"_

You cry out, wincing at the sharp pain on your stomach. "Mammon, wait you're hurting me _—"_

You feel him shudder, a full-body thing. Then he stops, drops most of his weight on-top of you, almost suffocating, and his face rests in the crook of your neck and shoulder. 

"'M sorry," he slurs. Mammon takes a couple of seconds to recollect himself, and when he feels you start to move _—_ trying to get a look at his face, not that he knows _—_ his tail and hands both squeeze. A warning.

Mammon says your name against your skin, "Do me a favor and don't look back."

"But _—"_

He growls, nips at your neck with a mouth full of too-many teeth. His tongue, when he runs over the bite, is long and sticky. When he speaks again, he sounds more collected. "I told ya already, don't be a brat."

He punctuates this by thrusting forward, and you whimper. His cock feels too big, you're not even sure if you'd be able to take him. There's something like panic forming behind the haze of lust in your mind, but it's easily pushed aside when Mammon tries to enter you.

If it weren't for the way he's been talking all night about how much he wants to fuck you, you would've thought hes doing it on purpose to be a tease. An asshole. Because he's not even bothering to guide himself to enter you, instead opting to trying to get his dick inside of your wet folds by determination alone.

The two of you are a panting, whimpering mess, whenever the head of his dick brushes against your slit, missing when he thrusts forward and only managing to grind his dick against your clit, your puffy lips. But _never_ inside. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you feel like crying. Almost.

" _Mammon_ ," your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. " _Please."_

Mammon curses, "say my name again."

You do.

"Again."

The second time, it comes out as a cry, tears finally slipping free, running down your cheeks, damping the couch beneath you. You barely hear Mammon sniffing the saltiness of your tears before he curses again.

"Shh, don't cry." He says, hips pulling back. His dick is so hard, wet with your arousal and his own pre. "I'll give you what you want, doll."

Then you feel the head of his cock push it's way inside of you, and you could _bawl_ over it. You're not even aware of your own body pulling away from him, your mouth opening up in protest, a stream of "I-it's too much, you're too—too big, Mammon. _Ah_ , please, please, _please—"_

Mammon holds you still, pressed close to your body, and all you can do is feel him, hot and heavy and his dick slipping in impossibly deep, like he's rearranging your guts, actually making space for him and his cock and _oh god—_

"Lemme see you," you plead.

"You don't need to see me," Mammon says, pulls his hips back, his _dick_ out of you, before grinding back in. Knocks out the air in your lungs, then he keeps pressing in. "I can fuck you just like this _—"_

" _—_ But I _—"_

Mammon growls, shutting you up. "I said no."

You're not going to push him, but a part of you is so curious. Even if you did try to sneak a peak, it's like he's managing to suck up all of the light in the room, your vision crossing.

"Aren't you glad I took the time to stretch you out?" He hums, and _fuck,_ you can barely concentrate on his voice when he's splitting you open so wonderfully. "Bet you would've been able to take me without all that. Your pussy would accommodate me, of course it would. I could just push in whenever and it'd open up for me, _just for me."_

"M-Mammon, _fuck,"_ you feel the tears running down your cheeks, wetting the couch. He keeps pushing, pushing, _pushing—_ It's too much. "Wait, st-stop I can't—"

Mammon snaps his hips forward and you gasp. The stretch _burns_ and you know that it's going to feel better in a bit, much, much better—but right now it's all you can do to not scream. 

"What's the matter?" He groans out, and you feel his claws sink into your hips, almost encompassing your whole back with how big they are. Everything about him is big—from the cock inside of you making room to adjust him, to the large hands on your body, to the sound of his voice. "Thought ya wanted me to fuck you like this."

"I.. I did b-but—"

"Is it too much for my human?" He asks, but it sounds all wrong—like he's mocking you. You're not sure, but it makes you run hotter, embarrassed and when you clench down on him you find that you can't. "Thought you wanted to be my little _bitch,_ let me breed you like one too." 

_Fuck._

You try again, clamping down against him. It doesn't work, and when the realization hits you can't help but moan, and whatever energy you had left to try and escape from his grasp, from him or to even hold yourself up? It goes away with your next exhale. Held up only by the couch beneath you, impaled on Mammon's cock. 

After what feels like an eternity, you feel his pelvis meet the swell of your ass. You're uncomfortably full, and Mammon is groaning above you.

"So fucking tight. So hot." He seems to be babbling, panting out each word. You feel him pull out just the tiniest bit before pushing back in.

You whine, shift your hips, _anything_ to get him to start moving. He seems content to stay like this, just grinding against you, cock heavy and thick inside of you.

"Oh fuck," Mammon breathes out, and he sounds giddy, almost drunk. Happy when he says; " _fuck,_ baby _—_ I can fucking feel you."

You're about to ask him what he's going on about, but then you feel his claws tap against your lower belly, and your breathing hitches when you feel him push against the outline of his cock. So deep in that a belly-bulge is visible. You can't see it, but you _can_ feel it. 

You moan, a weak little thing, but Mammon is too focused on the feel of his dick inside of you that he doesn't notice. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and begins to pull out slowly, all the way until the head of his cock is the only thing remaining inside of you, stretching your pussy lips.

He slides back in easily, slowly, and you feel him press against your stomach, fingers seeking his own cock.

He does this at least four more times, and the fifth time he pulls back, you expect him to do the same thing _—_ fuck you nice and slow and deep _—_ but instead he rams back in. The force of it knocks the air out of your lungs, and your whole body runs hot, hotter than before. The heavy weight of his balls slap against you, and then Mammon begins truly fucking you.

His pace is fast, hot, and the hands on your waist are pulling you back on him. 

"I'm so fucking deep in you," Mammon growls out, his voice almost lost under the sound of his pelvis meeting your ass, the slap of skin against skin. The sloppy mess in between your legs, "I'll fill ya _—ah—_ fill ya up nice, make you take every single _fucking_ drop."

He's overwhelming your senses, his hot panting against your neck and the teeth, so many teeth, scrapping against your skin. You can only cry out every time he thrusts back in, head of his cock hitting you in all the right places.

"That's what you wanted huh?" He pants, "wanted me to fuck you like this, like an animal, right?" 

When he doesn't receive a reply save for a slurred out moan, he bites your shoulder, hard enough that it has you whimpering away from him.

"Talk to me, cmon _—say it."_

_"I—"_ you're not... you're not sure what he wants you to say, all you can think about is how _full_ you are right now.

"Say it. Say you want me to fuck you until you don't know your own name." Mammon picks up the pace, fucking into you with a sort of desperation that leaves you reeling, struggling to catch your breath. "Say you want me to paint your cute little pussy with my seed, fucking breed you."

You feel your mouth moving, words forming _—_ whatever it is, must've been what Mammon wanted to hear because you're distantly aware of him _purring_ in approval _—_ but all you can think about is the fact that you're going to come again. He's going to make you cum again without having touched your clit, on his dick alone.

It's that thought that sends you over the edge _—_ oversensitive and getting fucked right through it. Mammon makes an appreciative sound, says something crude that you don't catch through the ringing in your ears, before he fucks into you, once, twice, and then _—_

You feel him still impossibly deep inside you, his claws dig into your skin painfully but the pain mixes in with the pleasure of your _still ongoing_ orgasm, and then his cum filling your insides. It's so much, and it doesn't stop _—_ even when it starts to leak out of you, makes you feel even more full than before. 

You're expecting Mammon to pull out, you're too tired, barely able to keep your eyes open. So when you feel him shift, and then start to rock into you again, you can't help the questioning whimper that leaves your throat. Mammon laughs, without sounding out of breath, and you realize that he's _still_ hard inside of you.

"Oh baby," he coos, "you thought one round would be enough for me?"

You slump against the couch and close your eyes, completely spent. Nerves high-wire, even as Mammon begins to pull out, the cum seeping out of you alongside his cock. He has no trouble manhandling your body again, turning you so that you're facing him. 

It's only then when you realize that he's pressing against your cunt again, filled with his cum and your own release, that he's facing you. 

When you open your eyes, you're not sure where to even begin looking at him. You feel your chest tighten _—_ with fear or wonder, you're not sure. 

Mammon doesn't give you much time to think though, his cock slipping in into your over-sensitive cunt. His blue eyes, contrasting starkly against the black of his scleras, shine with a hunger that leaves you feeling like prey. You swallow, mouth and throat dry and raw from all the screaming. Your eyes dilate, and your breathing hitches, just a second.

Mammon catches it all.

"You asked for it, I'm just following my _master's_ orders."

He grins. 

**Author's Note:**

> my work is never beta read so i'm sorry (not really) if the quality dropped somewhere or if it stopped making sense--chances are i probably forgot what was happening halfway through. at some point i got so bored of writing this, i just don't know when to shut these two up and the scenes kept on dragging idk man. aftercare is like an important part of everything, but given that i am: a) too tired of looking at this fic and b) i don't feel like writing it, it's not there.
> 
> mammon is gonna keep on fucking the reader i guess. rip mc. and yeah i know im too early, but idc. 
> 
> come yell at me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/crystalbases).


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